Bon Appétit
by musapan
Summary: Prompt: Hannibal treats Will to dinner. Hannibal doesn't eat much during dinner, so he nibbles on Will afterwards in the most provocative ways. Will can know about Hannibal's cannibalism or not. Point is: Will's a future dinner in the making or at least a tempting one. Rating: NC-17 Pairing: Will/Hannibal


He wasn't sure at what point he had figured it out. Most likely just after he finished his appetizer. Maybe he had always known, in some way, but tonight was different, and for the first time, Will felt that the man sitting at the other end of the dinner table was a serious threat to him. Still his hand was not on a gun, it was clutching a shining fork, grazing the cold metal gently over his nearly-vacant plate.

Hannibal Lecter sat in one of his exquisite suits, his hands interlinked and serving as a chin-rest as he watched Will finish his dinner, his dark gaze impossible to discern in the dimly lit room. Will swallowed another bite of his food, trying hard not to shake. He knew that when the artful meal Dr. Lecter had prepared for him was finished, he was going to die.

It had started with a simple enough dinner invitation, and though Will was usually too awkward for those sorts of things, Hannibal had assured him that it was nothing fancy, and that it was to be just the two of them. This hadn't eased Will's nerves any, but he felt it incredibly rude not to accept. After all, Dr. Lecter had been a good friend to him, and had been doing much to help Will through his... Issues.

But Will hadn't been expecting to be the only person eating. Hannibal had cooked him an amazing dish, but had prepared nothing for himself, and when Will asked about this, the man's only reply was, "One cannot force themselves to be hungry. The necessity must present itself." He had felt something was wrong then, but had a seat anyway.

Will could feel himself paling under Hannibal's gaze, pausing in-between bites, wildly thinking of a way to escape from the situation.

His survival instinct was being greatly impaired by the look Hannibal was giving him; almost lustful, heady and penetrating, but there was hunger there also that made Will feel like an exposed fawn quivering in the middle of an open field. He realized the reason for everything, all the copy-cat murders, the intricate dinners, Hannibal's fraudulent friendship with him... It had all been leading up to this. Will's safety net was crumbling around him, or worse yet, it had never existed, and he felt more alone and sad than horrified.

He hadn't realized yet that he had taken his last bite of his food, and that Hannibal had gotten languidly up from his seat and had approached him.

It seemed as if everything was moving in slow motion, or perhaps it was faster than ever; Will finally came back to himself when he felt Dr. Lecter standing directly behind him, radiating the confidence and majesty of a predator. Will was too frightened to even tremble. Forgetting that a fork could potentially serve as a weapon, he set it down gently on the plate, and let out an unsteady breath, running his tongue over his dry lips.

"Don't kill me," he managed to say softly, more of a request or suggestion than a plea for his life. Hannibal didn't move for some time, but when he did, his hands moved to Will's shoulders, feeling him through his shirt, meticulous hands running over tissue and muscle and bone with the intimate knowledge of a skilled doctor. Will inadvertently shuddered, letting out a surprised gasp and closing his eyes, terror mixing with a confused excitement, his heart hammering against his ribcage as if it made to break through his chest.

Hannibal's fingers trailed up Will's neck, following along twitching muscles and finally resting on the man's prominent jaw-line. Dr. Lecter leaned forward to press his lips against the top of Will's ear, his tongue emerging to taste the sweat beading at his hairline. "It won't hurt," came Hannibal's sweet promise, and Will inexplicably leaned his head into Hannibal's embrace, his _killer's_ embrace, lips parting as Hannibal licked and nipped at his neck.

Hands balled up and pressed to his knees, Will suppressed the urge to touch himself and allowed Dr. Lecter to explore his flavor, eyes bleary and half-lidded. He wondered vaguely if Hannibal had drugged the food as one of his captor's hands smoothly moved over his throat and collarbone, dipping past the opening in Will's shirt, coming to rest right over his heart.

Will nearly felt embarrassed; certainly the doctor could feel his heart beating wildly, out of both arousal and fear; He could practically _hear_ Hannibal smirk with that mouth of his, that perfect mouth that he had been caught staring at so many times, and Hannibal nipped at Will's ear more aggressively than before, dispensing a gasp from the other man. "Remarkable boy." Hannibal breathed, and Will shut his eyes, letting the voice seep into him like oil. "I think I'll eat your heart,"

Will barely had time to react as Hannibal expertly flipped him over and onto the table; there was a flurry of arms and thrashing and grunting and Will was grabbing every bit of Hannibal he could get his hands on, but not to escape him, to pull him closer, to feel the man's body against his own, to kiss his taunting mouth until his own lips were swollen and bruised. Hannibal kissed Will back aggressively, his hands easily working every button off of Will's shirt and allowing his hands to wander over heated skin.

Will was groaning into Hannibal's mouth, his hands flying to the other man's jacket, his trembling hands working it off of him, desperate to feel flesh, to touch and to explore. Death was staring him in the face and his inhibitions had melted away, leaving only lust and desire in its wake. As strange as it seemed, he felt freed. It was as if life had been preventing him from getting what he wanted- which at the moment was grinding against Hannibal's clothed hips and kissing the breath from the other man's lungs- and Dr. Lecter, the Chesapeake Ripper, had relieved him of his choice to continue living, which was a terrifying release in its own way.

Whether he lived or died tonight, his life was as fragile as the teacup Hannibal once compared him to, and he had willingly given Hannibal the choosing hand.

Hannibal's tongue probed into Will's eager mouth and Will groaned, bucking against the man pathetically as Hannibal blindly but efficiently unbuckled Will's belt and yanked his pants down around his knees. Will became aware that Hannibal was literally _tasting_ him, sampling an appetizer before his dinner, but his own tongue responded to the man all the same, unbelieving of how sweet Hannibal's mouth tasted in his own mouth. With a sudden and low-rumbling growl, Hannibal bit into Will's lower lip, drawing blood.

Will hissed in pain and moaned, feeling Hannibal's tongue licking gratefully along his wounded lip. His head fuzzy, Will barely noticed when Hannibal pulled away from him until a hand touched his aching arousal, and Will gasped, tossing his head back. The psychiatrist, his lips red with the blood of his patient, smiled darkly as he observed Will's erect organ. Without warning or suitable time to prepare, Hannibal closed his mouth around Will's cock.

Will opened his mouth to shout, but no sound came out right away. Hannibal's mouth was so warm and wet and amazing, he could barely think about anything else. Will's hands grabbed at something, anything, and finally he found the table runner and gripped it for dear life. The familiar warm tightness emerged in his belly, and Hannibal must have known, because his free hand moved to Will's abdomen and held him down.

Hannibal's movements were precise and excruciatingly thorough. If Will had been able to think properly, he would have most likely been more self-conscious, but his mind had fallen blissfully blank and he bucked his hips unconsciously as he moaned in primal pleasure. Again he knew that Hannibal was just tasting him, experiencing what he could while Will was still breathing, but that didn't matter now. All that mattered was the wetness of Hannibal's mouth, and how he moved his lips along the right side of his length at a painfully slow rate, and how he fondled his scrotum as he- oh, god, that was the way- and Will was making sounds he never thought he would make in a place he never thought he'd be making them.

He could feel his balls tighten and his cock surge with the impending wave of release, and Hannibal increased his pace knowingly, practically dragging the sensation out of him. Will couldn't stop his hips from bucking into Hannibal's beautiful mouth, and he dragged his own bloody bottom lip into his mouth and sucked as he felt himself reach his limit.

Lights exploded behind Will's eyes as he came, his back arching off the table and his mouth open in a silent scream. Hannibal grabbed his hips to keep the man steady and kept his mouth firmly around Will's pulsating organ, swallowing every bit that Will spasmed out. His lips lingered there long after the shocks left Will's body, and pulled away, warmth and wetness leaving Will altogether too quickly. He lay there on the table, out of breath and shaking, exposed and ridiculously defenseless, the killer rising before him and elegantly wiping his mouth with a handkerchief he had produced from the breast pocket of his jacket, which was hanging from him, chest exposed.

Will was sure he was close to passing out. He managed to lock eyes with Hannibal, this intelligent psychopath, this cannibal, this... Monster. For a fleeting moment, he realized that he had lost. If Hannibal spared him tonight, the chances were good that he could get used to this life.

That is, _if_ he was spared.

Hannibal Lecter put his handkerchief away, and gazed at Will on his dinner table. His lips twitched into a smile.  
"Bon appétit."


End file.
